


I Feel the Hand of Fate

by mastrechef



Series: holding back the night [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Force Visions, Gen, Obi-Wan is a trouble magnet, Obi-Wan was knighted before the events of Phantom Menace, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos, Phantom Menace AU, Qui-Gon Jinn's A+ Parenting, discussion of the prophecy, mentions of Obi-Wan's traumatic childhood, mix of canon and legends, taking the reappearance of the sith seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mastrechef/pseuds/mastrechef
Summary: Obi-Wan truly got into the worst sort of trouble. This time, he put the blame squarely at Qui-Gon’s feet. He thought he was done with getting dragged into his master’s messes, but clearly that wasn’t the case. When a mysterious pull in the Force draws him to the Outer Rim planet Tatooine, what else does he find there but Qui-Gon “I follow the will of the Force” Jinn, a strange boy, and a sith. Trouble was brewing in the galaxy and Obi-Wan didn’t like it one bit.An AU where Obi-Wan was knighted before the events of The Phantom Menace.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: holding back the night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913398
Comments: 13
Kudos: 267





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to post this until I had written this in its entirety, but I've been sitting on this for a while and decided to just go for it. Chapter 2 just needs a final edit, and chapter 3 involves a lot of transcribing canon movie scenes, so hopefully it won't take me long to finish writing it.

Deserts were truly one of the most dreadful things in the galaxy. They were hot and arid and just a single breath of the dry air was enough to cause dehydration. The terrain was inhospitable at the best of times and otherwise severely lacking in many qualities necessary for proper civilization. Not to mention the  _ sand. _

Most troubling at the moment, however, was the fact that the harsh sunlight was killer on his fair skin. As a Jedi he really ought to be beyond such petty concerns, but really, it was difficult to remain serene and composed when one was being baked alive. He couldn’t even use the Force to cool himself off, as frivolous and inappropriate as such an usage was typically considered, since he was trying to be discreet. He had dressed the part of a spacer, forgoing the more familiar tunics and tabards of the Jedi in favor of synthleather and blasters. It was somewhat of a mixed blessing; Jedi attire was looser and breathed better despite the many layers, but it was much more likely to get him shot or abducted or both.

Of all the planets to end up at, it just had to be Tatooine. The place was nothing more than a breeding ground for all sorts of miscreants and scoundrels: mercenaries and slavers, bounty hunters and smugglers all frequented the spaceports hoping to turn a profit. Frankly, he’d rather be anywhere other than this dust bowl. He was more than ready to leave Tatooine behind, never to return unless it was for the purpose of leading a slave uprising.

Wouldn’t that be something. A fanciful goal, to be sure, but one that was entirely in line with the tenets of the Jedi Order. After all, were they not meant to protect the weak and defenseless? To grant freedom to the oppressed and ensure justice for the persecuted? At the very least Jedi were supposed to show compassion for all their fellow sentients—and as someone intimately familiar with slavery, short as his stint as a slave might have been, he had compassion for the slaves of Tatooine in spades. Then again, for all that the Order preaches that they serve the galaxy at large, these days it was the Senate that called the shots more often than not. And abolishing slavery on every backwater Outer Rim planet was not a profitable endeavor for the upper echelons of the Republic.

Obi-Wan let out a humorless chuckle at the turn of his thoughts. His former master had certainly done a thorough job of corrupting him with his maverick ways, even if it was only in recent years that he had truly embraced them. Particularly as a senior padawan he had been more concerned with respecting the High Council and proving his commitment to the Order after the tumultuous years of his early apprenticeship. Now that he was a knight, he spent so much time bouncing back and forth between tangling with politicians and rubbing elbows with the worst degenerates of the galaxy that he often found himself resorting to true Qui-Gonian levels of unorthodoxy out of sheer self-preservation.

So yes, Obi-Wan greatly disliked  _ (not hated, Jedi do not hate)  _ Tatooine for all it represented.

And yet here he was at the Force’s behest. What for, he wasn’t entirely sure just yet, but he knew without a doubt that he had been drawn here for a reason. A rather important reason, he suspected, given the persistent, if vague, tug in the Force. His natural inclination towards prescience manifested in feelings and premonitions of stunning accuracy; he had learned after one too many blunders to trust them implicitly, a task made much easier now that Qui-Gon wasn’t there to constantly remind him to focus on the present. Under many circumstances it was solid advice, like when one was being chased by a horde of angry gundarks, but nevertheless it also meant neglecting a useful natural gift. Right now, Obi-Wan was hoping for said gift to shed some clarity on this situation to no avail. The Force was frustratingly mum on details.

Thus resigned to spending the foreseeable future simply keeping an ear to the ground, Obi-Wan occupied himself with perusing the markets and haunting the cantinas for gossip. He even spared the credits to engage in a few rounds of sabacc, in the process depriving some unlucky smugglers of several crates of spice and other contraband. This went on for some days until he finally decided to give in to a certain someone trying to catch his attention.

Obi-Wan locked eyes with the other man, and by unspoken agreement they both headed toward a nearby cantina. Ensconced in the relative privacy of the busy space, they at last turned to greet each other, clasping forearms.

Obi-Wan smiled. “Quinlan, it’s good to see you.” Smirking back at him was indeed Quinlan Vos, equally inconspicuous in his traditional Kiffarian garb.

“It’s about time.” The other Jedi flung an arm around his shoulders as he led them to the bar. “You came out all this way and weren’t even going to say hello? How hurtful.”

“I was under the impression you were meant to be undercover. I didn’t want to cause any upset,” Obi-Wan responded drily. The two retrieved their drinks and made their way over to a free booth. Obi-Wan kept his senses open and alert for the sake of picking up on any eavesdroppers as well as on the off-chance the Force would choose now to elucidate him as to his purpose here. “By the way, how is Aayla doing?”

A sappy look that Obi-Wan was definitely going to tease him for later emerged on Quinlan’s face. “She’s coming along well with her training. She has it in her head to master Form VI, Form V, and Jar’kai, and I’ve been hard pressed to keep up with her. No doubt she’ll become a great swordmaster. I have her off doing some solo reconnaissance right now.” In that moment he was very much like a proud father bragging about his kid.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Blue-gray eyes sparkled mischievously. “She does all the work while you slack off.”

“It’s called delegation, or are you too much of a perfectionist workaholic to know what that is? Anyway, it keeps her mostly out of sight, which in a place like this can only be a good thing.”

Understanding passed between them, and they shared a moment of commiseration for all those bound in the chains of slavery. Yes, it was probably for the best that Aayla stuck to background work. For a young female Twi’lek, even one as well-trained as Aayla, Tatooine was especially dangerous.

“So what did you come here for, if it wasn’t to see me?”

Venturing a testing sip of his drink, Obi-Wan paused to grimace at the taste before replying, “I was drawn here by the Force.”

“A vision?” the Kiffar asked curiously.

“Nothing so clear as that. More of a feeling.”

“Helpful.”

“The Force will provide.” Stars, Qui-Gon’s influence really was strong if he was starting to  _ sound _ like him. That saying was a favorite of his for when things look to be going downhill or took a turn for the unexpected. At this rate, it was only a matter of time until Obi-Wan started picking up pathetic life forms of his own.

As though summoned by his thoughts, something pinged at the edge of his awareness, a familiar Force signature entering the city limits of Mos Espa. Obi-Wan swiveled to stare in the vague direction the individual in question was approaching from, brow furrowed in confusion. “What is Qui-Gon doing here?”

Quinlan snorted derisively. “Don’t know, don’t care. Probably creating another mess that you’ll have to clean up, like always.”

“Quin,” Obi-Wan chided, frowning sternly at his friend.

“What? I’ve said nothing that isn’t true, and you know it.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Quinlan’s dislike of his former master was well established among their circle of friends, and Obi-Wan had long since given up on trying to sway his opinion. It wasn’t like his concerns were completely unfounded either, even if Obi-Wan thought he often blew things out of proportion. During his padawan years he had been quick to defend his master’s actions, regardless of whether or not he agreed with them. Since his knighting, he'd had time and space to reflect back on those years and gain some perspective, and while he conceded that his apprenticeship certainly wasn’t the most conventional, it was hardly as awful as Quinlan made it out to be. 

He gave his friend’s leg a nudge. “There’s a reason I’m a diplomat and you’re not.”

Quinlan seemingly took the hint and steered the conversation away from the topic of Qui-Gon ‘I follow the will of the Force’ Jinn. “At least when you’re not playing pirate.”

“You’re not still going on about Hondo, are you?” Obi-Wan asked with a faux vexed air. “He makes for a good informant, so long as it's worth his while.”

“He’s a kriffing menace is what he is,” Quinlan grumbled.

“As if you have any room to talk, my dear. Really, he’s not that bad.”

“You only think so because you’re just as dramatic as he is—”

“Am not!”

“—and he actually likes you so you’re exempt from half the kark he pulls on everyone else.”

Obi-Wan shook his head and tossed back the rest of his drink—some watered-down swill to save him the trouble of having to filter the alcohol out of his system later. Hardly any satisfaction in it, not that he was actively trying to get smashed. After months of back to back missions, he wouldn’t mind the chance to relax; however, Tatooine was not an ideal place to indulge in that desire, more because of Quinlan than anything else. Too often he tried his very best to get Obi-Wan absolutely black-out drunk, because he found it hilarious to watch the normally put-together Jedi let loose.

“Say, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan’s tone, just on the edge of sensual, sent alarm bells ringing in Obi-Wan’s head, and he knew his friend was about to suggest something untoward. “Since you’re here and all, why don’t we go back to my place and have a little fun,” the Kiffar offered, wiggling his eyebrows outrageously.

“Quinlan Vos, are you propositioning me while we’re both on missions?” Obi-wan asked archly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Quinlan leered.

“And this time I’m not drunk enough to agree.”

Quinlan clutched his chest as though wounded. “Obes, you’re killing me. Need I remind you who came on to who first?”

“That was you.”

“Only because you were too bashful to do anything about your raging crush on me.”

Obi-Wan could feel the flush burning across his cheeks. That had been an embarrassing time. The rest of his friends—mostly Garen and Siri—had ribbed him relentlessly when they found out. Quinlan, of course, was delighted by the attention. They dated for a few years, mutually agreeing to split after Quinlan was knighted and he began taking on more Shadow missions. Honestly, he and Quin were much better just as friends.

“Well, if you won’t agree to that, how about we go to the Boonta Eve together? We’ll make a date of it. It’ll be just like old times.”

“Oh, sure. It’s not like I’ve got plans,” Obi-Wan returned, voice positively dripping sarcasm.

Cajoling eyes bored into him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

In the end, he truly did love Quinlan, even when he drove him spare, and he couldn’t say no to spending time with his long-time friend. He caved. “Alright, if you insist.”

The other man smirked like the tooka that got the cream.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke from unsettled dreams, already as faded as a vanishing mirage. A low hum of warning permeated the Force. Today was the day. Whatever it was that the Force had drawn him here for, all would be revealed today.

He went to his ship’s tiny galley kitchen to get some caf brewing while he washed up and got dressed for the day. It was still early, and it would be a while yet until he was to meet up with Quin and Aayla for the pod race. Something told him that going out to the cantinas today would be a fruitless endeavor, so he took the time to meditate and check the holonet for galactic news, starting with the latter. There was not much of note beyond responses to the recent enactment of Prop 31-814D—including the blockade of the Mid Rim planet Naboo by the Trade Federation; with any luck another Jedi was already working to resolve that. There was also speculation on the continuing hostilities between the Open and the Closed on Carnelion IV, and whether the recent absence of communications meant they had destroyed each other.

With a heavy heart Obi-Wan read over what little information there was on the situation. He’d seen more than his fair share of civil war, and it always saddened him to see such conflict. However, this was what he had signed up for by remaining a part of the Jedi Order as a Knight. He was one of all too few in the unique position to help various worlds before they reached that point. Before all out war was seen as the only way to have their voices heard. He could only hope that it wasn’t too late for the Jedi to intervene on Carnelion IV.

He let the guiding light of the Force ease his woes as he slipped into meditation. It did not do to dwell on troubles he could not fix. They would only weigh him down and cloud his judgement. So he let go of his concern and his heartache and released them into the Force. The soothing currents of the Force wrapped around him in a warm embrace, filling him with a sense of peace.

Obi-Wan remained in meditation until his friend arrived, padawan in tow. Aayla greeted him with a smile and a shallow bow. Her master on the other hand, in true Quinlan fashion, threw himself at Obi-Wan as though they hadn’t just seen each other the day before.

Before they left, Obi-Wan made sure to grab a head scarf to shield his face from the scorching twin suns. Then, braving the intense heat once more, the group headed off to secure seating for the race. Quin left an arm wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist because, in his words, “Obi is too pretty and I don’t want anyone getting any ideas.” Obi-wan allowed it, used to Quin taking liberties with his person. He had no compunctions about decking the older man if he got too handsy.

The massive arena of seating built around the starting line was absolutely packed to the gills. It would be impressive if not for the fact that the Boonta Eve was the single biggest podrace in the galaxy. It attracted no small amount of racing enthusiasts and gamblers alike. People went to all sorts of lengths for the chance to see it in person.

He let the roar of the crowd wash over him. There was so much excitement and anticipation in the air from so many sentients that he had to draw his shields back up, but not before he picked up on Qui-Gon’s Force signature once again, which he studiously ignored. Whatever his old master was sticking his nose into, Obi-Wan was not dealing with the fallout this time. He found enough trouble on his own. Besides, Qui-Gon was probably high-stakes gambling again, judging by his presence here of all places. He wished he could be surprised, but this sort of reckless faith in chance was entirely like Qui-Gon.

The Jedi Master was quickly forgotten as something suitably distracting caught Obi-Wan’s attention. “What? They’re letting a child race?” Obi-Wan exclaimed in concerned outrage.

“Not just any child either,” Quinlan mused. “He must have some level of Force sensitivity to race at these speeds.”

“This is child endangerment!”

“You think anyone here cares about that sort of thing?”

This was madness. A great deal of the excitement in watching podracing was due to the danger inherent in the sport. Death of one or more of the contestants was not uncommon. In fact, it was more uncommon to have a race without a casualty or at least some grievous injury.

“There’s nothing we can do from here other than have faith that the Force will guide him,” Aayla chipped in, his concern echoed in her voice.

“I suppose you’re right, Aayla.” Obi-Wan reached out to the Force to regain some semblance of serenity and attempt to ease the tension that had seized his muscles. Seeing children deliberately put in danger was always a surefire way to get him riled, but Aayla did have a point. He smiled at the young Twi’lek. “You have a level head for one so young.”

She turned a startled gaze to him, before returning a bashful smile.

A hush fell over the audience when the commentators called for the racers to start their engines, everyone intently focused as the countdown began. The only sound was the rumble of idling engines. Sunlight glinted off metal and goggle lenses even as the heat formed a haze around the assembled racers. Jabba struck the gong and the first signal light blinked on.

With a cacophony of roaring engines, just barely audible over the wild, jubilant cheering of the crowds, the racers were off.

When the boy’s engine stalled, Obi-Wan released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. To a child this outcome was likely a crushing disappointment, but he felt that this was better than letting someone so young participate in such a dangerous sport. That relief was short-lived when Skywalker finally got the pod-racer going and sped off after the others. Quickly he was gaining on the stragglers at the back of the lineup, weaving around them with reckless abandon. For some reason, Obi-Wan felt equal parts worried and exasperated by the boy’s ridiculous driving. He did his best not to fidget in agitation, all the while grumbling to Quinlan. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this. I don’t even know the child and he’s giving me anxiety.”

His friend just laughed at him. “Relax, Obes, or all that lovely auburn hair of yours will go prematurely gray. The kid looks like he’s doing just fine.” Then, Quinlan went right back to cheering with gusto.

Obi-Wan’s nerves were given no chance to abate as Skywalker flew through narrow canyons and around rock arches at an incredible speed. His heart just about stopped when shots were fired by local Tusken Raiders. Thankfully none of them struck home.

The forerunners of the pack zoomed by as they completed the first circuit. Those further back, including the boy, trickled in one by one. Skywalker managed to gain some ground at the beginning of the second lap, passing a few of his fellow racers.

Suddenly, one of the engines of the second place racer exploded. Those behind weaved out of the way of the flying debris, but some piece of it struck the boy’s pod, causing one side to disconnect. The pod began spinning uncontrollably.

“Oh Force, I can’t watch this,” Obi-Wan muttered even as his eyes remained glued to the scene unfolding on the holoscreens. He wrapped his hands around his elbows in an effort to prevent himself from clenching his fists.

Remarkably calm, Skywalker controlled the spin and pulled out a magnet to draw in the connection cable. He reconnected it to the pod, then sped off once more, wasting no time making up lost ground.

More racers were taken out or fell behind, and Skywalker caught up to the first place racer, Sebulba, just as they started the third lap. That’s when things got rough. Sebulba used his larger engines to slam the boy’s pod. Obi-Wan could only watch tensely as he was shoved out of bounds, soaring high into the air above the track. However, the clever boy used it to his advantage to steal the lead. Entirely zeroed in on the action as he was, Obi-Wan didn’t even register the reactions of the crowd nor the commentators.

It wasn’t long before another problem arose. The boy’s left-side engine caught fire, spending out a plume of black smoke. Despite his intentions, Obi-Wan could feel his nails biting into his arms through the synthleather as his heart leapt into his throat. Sebulba used Skywalker’s predicament to reclaim first place. Meanwhile, Skywaker had slowed and was trying everything to put out the fire and stabilize the engine, but nothing seemed to take.

By some stroke of good luck, he got it working and pushed his racer to the limit to catch up. Soon, the two racers were neck and neck again. Once more, Sebulba tried his tactic of slamming into the opposing pod-racer, yet this time it backfired. The pods hooked together, and a tug of war ensued to dislodge them. Sebulba ended up on the losing side as his racer went out of control, ending in a spectacular explosion.

The crowd went wild as Skywalker crossed the finish line, erupting at this unusual turnabout. Audience members swarmed the boy, lifting him into the air in triumphant celebration. Obi-Wan was finally able to settle. He felt a strange sense of pride for this unknown boy and his astonishing victory.

Quinlan jolted his attention away from the Skywalker boy by bumping shoulders, grinning ear to ear from excitement. “Man, that was great! What a show! We should do this again sometime.”

“Never again, Vos,” said Obi-Wan fervently. “It seems podracing is not good for my health.”

“What, too rough for the prim and proper Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Quinlan returned teasingly.

Tugging gently on one of Quin’s dreads, Obi-Wan let his hand hover next to the bare skin of the Kiffar’s face. “I’d be more than happy to share with you just how I felt,” he said, brow raised in challenge. The implications were clear.

Quin raised his hands in surrender, still grinning cheekily. “Have it your way, then.”

It took some time for the arena to clear out, and the three Jedi were in no particular hurry, so they stayed put, quietly conversing. Obi-Wan and Aayla found themselves discussing the different lightsaber forms, favorite styles, and even their favorite poetry, much to Quinlan’s distress. He, unfortunately, did not share an appreciation for intricate wordsmithing.

When a sudden feeling of dread drew his attention, Obi-Wan took his leave, an insistent trill in the Force directing him away from the arena and the spaceport, past the markets and cantinas, and out to the edge of the settlement, until he was leaving it behind altogether. Shortly, he was surrounded by nothing but sand dunes. His stomach churned uneasily, the feeling of dread only growing more intense. That was when he espied something disturbing.

Hurtling across the desert sand on a sleek speeder bike was a figure cloaked in black. Around them the Force was somehow warped, twisting into an odd absence of presence only discernible upon visual contact. Even more alarming, they were headed straight for the unguarded backs of two other figures making their way to a silver Nubian ship further beyond the outskirts of Mos Espa. One of them was his old master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

In a burst of Force enhanced speed, Obi-Wan intercepted the bike before the cloaked figure could reach Qui-Gon and his tagalong. Thrusting a hand out in front of him, he erected a Force barrier, invisible to the eye, but solid as durasteel. The cloaked figure abandoned the bike just before it hit the barrier with a screech of crunching metal, Force flaring, and hood falling back to reveal the horns and tattooed face of a Zabrak.

Recognition struck like a physical blow. He'd seen this Zabrak before. Almost a full year ago now, at the same auction where he first met Hondo Ohnaka. It was a very brief encounter, but it had left a lasting impression.

The council had assigned him a mission to locate a missing group of Jedi. He had eventually tracked down their crashed shuttle and found the bodies of all but one: a padawan, Eldra Kaitis. From there, he had sent out feelers among his less reputable contacts, getting a tip-off about an upcoming auction held by Xev Xrexus of the Xrexus Cartel. The auction had been invitation only, so sneaking in had been no easy feat. Especially when the clientele were all suspicious, trigger-happy crime lords, smugglers, and bounty hunters.

He had managed to free Padawan Kaitis with the timely help of a certain Weequay pirate and his crew, and had been fleeing the premises, when a shrieking cry in the Force was all that prevented them from being ambushed.

_ A freezing chill swept over him like the bite of a winter gale, almost painful as it seeped in straight to the bone. Darkness clouded the Force, heavy and cloying, seething restlessly. He turned his head and caught a fleeting glimpse— _

_ Then all he could see were smouldering eyes, burning, sulfurous eyes, glowing with molten anger and so much hate— _

Those same eyes stared back at him now. And if that was not enough proof, this darksider felt the same in the Force, stronger than he remembered, but the same.

He had to forcibly shake off those thoughts as the Zabrak leapt at him with a glaringly red lightsaber, face twisted in a snarl. Ducking a blow aimed straight at his head, he ignited his own ‘saber, its familiar hum settling him. He didn’t have to imagine what Master Qui-Gon would say about his distracted state, his inner voice that sounded suspiciously like the man saying it for him  _ (keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs) _ . Sticking to the defensive, Obi-Wan parried and deflected while trying to get a read on his opponent’s fighting style.

The Zabrak certainly was skilled, and if the situation were not so dire he could—somewhat guiltily—almost admit to finding a thrill in crossing ‘sabres with such an opponent, in the challenge he presented. There was additional challenge in fighting in soft sand that dipped and shifted beneath his feet. Multiple factors contributed to a bubbling rush of adrenaline that he did his best to ignore.

Obi-Wan redirected a strike towards the ground and spotted an opening in the Zabrak’s aggressive offense. Before he could capitalize on it, the Zabrak pivoted on his leading leg, the other whipping around from behind to kick Obi-Wan square in the chest. The Jedi fell back with a grunt.

In that split second of disorientation, his master joined the fray, bearing down with his own aggressive Ataru. Rolling back to his feet, Obi-Wan took a moment to observe. Drawing swirls of green light in the air, Master Qui-Gon’s blade clashed against the Zabrak’s raw, powerful, unembellished sword technique. His senses buzzed as the Force pulsed and roiled in time with the whirling blades.

The action abruptly halted as green and red locked together. Not hesitating for a moment, Obi-Wan spun into a leaping hawk-bat swoop, aimed to disable. The Zabrak disengaged to counter, shoving Qui-Gon back half a step, but Obi-Wan was only the distraction. The Zabrak wasn’t quite fast enough to completely avoid Qui-Gon’s swift strike to his main sword arm, plasma blade nicking him with a sizzle of burning flesh.

Hissing not unlike a supremely pissed off viper, he lashed out in a wide sweeping arc to drive them back, then retreated a few steps of his own.

Master Qui-Gon flicked his fingers in a signal, and both Jedi jumped up to the open ramp of the ship passing overhead, leaving behind the now spitting mad darksider. As soon as the ramp sealed shut, Obi-Wan sunk to the floor, adrenaline draining out of him.

A fleeting thought for leaving his own ship behind had him pulling up short. He had followed Master Qui-Gon’s lead without much thought, and now he was ostensibly being swept up in whatever business was urgent enough to withdraw from a fight with a darksider. There was no telling how long Quin would be on planet, and he would be busy with his own mission besides. Perhaps he could comm Hondo for a favor.

Just then, a tiny whirlwind of a child came charging over, all but blinding Obi-Wan with his Force presence. “That was so wizard!” the boy exclaimed, rushing up to the barely-winded Jedi Master. Obi-Wan had to blink the sudden stars from his vision.

The child’s identity was unmistakable. It was that boy from the pod race. He was a blazing sun in the Force, brilliant and untamed. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he had missed him before. By all rights he should have detected the boy the moment he stepped foot  _ on the planet _ so strong was he in the Force. Had someone been shielding him?

“Anakin, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Qui-Gon’s voice startled him. He had almost forgotten about the man.

The boy, Anakin apparently, turned to him with wonder in his eyes. “You’re a Jedi too? Pleased to meet you.” It was by complete reflex that he shook the offered hand, still stunned by Anakin’s existence and mesmerized by the way the Force coalesced around him in a dizzying array of cosmic energy.

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched in a barely-there smile. “Come. We should speak with the Queen and get you caught up to speed.”

Recovered enough to finally react, Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation at his master.  _ Still picking up strays, are you? _ he thought to himself, although the thought was tinged with fondness. Annoying as the habit had been for him, the one usually delegated with the task of rehoming said strays, it was simply an aspect of dealing with his master that he had inured himself to, and now reflected back on when he was feeling sentimental.

While Master Qui-Gon swept away deeper into the ship, Obi-Wan got to his feet and addressed Anakin. “This will likely be a rather boring discussion for you. Why don’t we see if the pilot will let you sit up in the cockpit?”

Blue eyes sparkled up at him, paired with an ecstatic grin. “Really? Yippee!” He proceeded to ramble on about everything he knew about piloting, and various stories he had heard from transient spacers passing through Mos Espa.

Obi-Wan chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm as he corralled him in the right direction. The pilot, who introduced himself as Ric Olié, was more than happy to accommodate Anakin, his rambling and his endless curiosity included. With the boy taken care of for the moment, Obi-Wan sought out his master. He found the man waiting patiently outside the closed doors of what he could only assume to be the Queen’s receiving room or throne room of sorts, seeing as this was a diplomatic vessel.

Coming to stand next to him, Obi-Wan gave a nod in belated greeting. After the tumult of the day, the calm now was equally welcome and not. Perhaps it was solely on his part, but the silence between them felt stifling and sparked the urge to flee the narrow confines of the corridor. He was at a loss for words, unsure what to say or even if he should say anything at all. In the end, it was his master that broke the silence.

“I see you’ve picked up some Soresu,” he said in that inscrutable way of his that had caused Obi-Wan no shortage of anxiety when he was a padawan.

Unconsciously he straightened, tightening his shields. “Yes, well, it is quite handy in the situations I find myself in.” The stilted conversation did nothing to break the awkward tension in the air.

Two years since the end of their partnership and they didn’t know how to talk to each other. Or rather they still didn’t know how to talk to each other. The man was dear to him, the closest thing he’d ever had to a father, but he was a bit of a disaster, and clear communication had never been their strong point.

To be fair, their current lack of communication was almost entirely due to the fact that they’ve both been kept busy, never seeming to be in temple at the same time. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if part of it was because Master Qui-Gon was disappointed in him.

Against all expectations that he would become a consular as Master Jinn before him, he had opted instead to become a sentinel. Not that there were many who were aware of that fact; his closest friends knew, of course, as did the council, his master, and Master Tholme. If his master had any concerns about his choice (surely he did, as often as he preached about resisting the Dark and the statistical likelihood that a sentinel would have a brush with it) he never voiced them where Obi-Wan could hear.

Even so, for a sentinel he was a bit of an outlier, spending as much time exercising diplomacy as he did scouring the archives or investigating shady Outer Rim dealings, even battling the odd darksider. He was still one of the Order’s best negotiators, courtesy of Qui-Gon’s tutelage and his own natural eloquence, so he split his time between diplomatic missions and more covert operations. He wasn’t quite to the level of a seer, but he did seem drawn to trouble (or perhaps it was that trouble was drawn to him?) and as such he had learned how to handle all sorts of scenarios and didn’t confine himself to one specialization as was customary.

This trip to Tatooine was a bit of a deviation from his normal routine. While it was not in any way unusual for the Force to steer him into taking detours—often fruitful or otherwise beneficial for the success of his mission—the pull towards a planet halfway across the galaxy had been new.

Obi-Wan was relieved when the guard captain beckoned them inside to speak with this Queen his master was escorting. It was easier to put aside personal concerns to fall into the role of the serene Jedi diplomat. For now, he would devote his focus on the song and dance of political discussions.

* * *

Massaging his temples did little to ward off Obi-Wan’s headache. How typical that Qui-Gon was sent to negotiate a peaceful resolution to a blockade and instead uncovered a nefarious plot complete with a full invasion force of B1 battle droids. Just what was the Trade Federation hoping to gain from this? It was much more than a dispute over trade route taxation. The whole thing absolutely reeked of conspiracy.

His mind was in overdrive, considering the issue from every angle trying to pin down a motive. He knew there would be no sleep for him anytime soon, even after the long, eventful day he’d had. Too much was going on inside his head to be able to settle.

But before he could let himself become fully lost in his thoughts, he chose to seek out Anakin and make sure he was doing alright. It didn’t take long to find him in the main hold, curled up on a bench seat across the table from the snoring Gungan. He seemed so much smaller now, Force presence dulled and muted by exhaustion. Anakin glanced up as he approached, but didn’t look particularly surprised to see him.

“How are you holding up Anakin? Are you cold?” What was he saying? The boy was from  _ Tatooine _ . And given his scruffy, roughspun clothes and the niggling suspicion in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind, he was very much adrift, separated from everything he had ever known.

Shrugging off his jacket, he sat next to Anakin and wrapped it around his shoulders, tucking the boy against his side. He wished he had one of his robes right about now. They were better for bundling up in.

“Thanks.” Anakin smiled sleepily at him.

Soft footsteps neared, pausing by the doorway and drawing his gaze. One of the Queen’s handmaidens. She felt restless and troubled, simmering with worry. For certain, she had more than enough reason to.

Anakin perked up a bit at the sight of her, a bit of awareness beating back the call of sleep. “Padmé?” he called out.

Seemingly taking that as an invitation, she walked fully into the room and joined them at the table.

“Credit for your thoughts?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

“I’m just anxious to get to Coruscant,” she replied.

Anakin frowned at the handmaiden. “You seem sad,” he observed.

Padmé quirked an unenthusiastic half-smile at him. “The Queen is worried. Her people are suffering, dying. She must convene the Senate to intervene, or… I’m not sure what’ll happen.”

She was so young. They all were. But they all kept a brave face while their home was in peril. Obi-Wan’s heart went out to the young Queen. Leadership was a hard burden to bear under normal circumstances, let alone when embroiled in conflict.

It was a clever ploy to have near identical bodyguards that could swap in and out of the ceremonial garb with none the wiser. The elaborate gowns and heavy makeup would certainly be disguise enough for most. He only caught on because he picked up on the subtle communication going on between them. It was a simple, yet effective security measure, especially when paired with the handmaidens themselves. With their own flowing gowns and soft-spoken demeanor it would be easy to overlook them as capable fighters in their own right.

Obi-Wan did his best to project comfort, even if as a Force-null she would not entirely pick up on it. “Have faith in the Jedi. Baring all else, I will do all in my power to help save your people.”

Her smile turned a bit more sincere, conveying her gratitude.

“I made this for you—” Anakin pulled out a small white stone threaded onto a string of leather. Padmé took it, gently turning it over in her hands to examine it. “—so you’d remember me. I carved it out of a japor snippet. It’ll bring you good fortune.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “But I don’t need this to remember you by. Many things will change when we reach the capital, Ani, but my caring for you will remain.”

“I care for you too, only I—”

“Miss your mother,” Padmé finished.

So he had been taken from his mother? There was no question that Qui-Gon planned for Anakin to become a Jedi. However, he was old to be just now joining the temple, being of an age that he would have long established a strong bond with his mother. Obi-Wan himself had been brought in later than was typical at three years old. Whether or not the council would accept Anakin remained to be seen.

Still, he was troubled by the mention of Anakin’s mother. The suspicions he had on Anakin’s upbringing bore looking into, and he made a mental note to pester more information out of his master at a later time. Bare bones of a plan took shape in the back of his mind. For now, the most he could do was flesh out the details and devise a convincing argument for the council. Perhaps after Naboo was freed (and they  _ would _ free Naboo; he would settle for nothing less) he could get the ball rolling.

He peered at the boy tiredly leaning against him. The council was sure to accuse him of following in Qui-Gon’s footsteps if he didn’t spin it just right. Oh, well. Even if his good standing in the eyes of the council dropped a bit, he would follow through because it was the right thing to do.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot of action this chapter, but there will be plenty in the next one.
> 
> Also, midichlorians don't exist in this AU, because they're dumb in my opinion. (Plus I've watched too much Auralnauts to ever take them seriously.)
> 
> Also also, thank you for the lovely response to the first chapter (winter_sunshine your enthusiastic comment brought a big smile to my face when I read it), so I'll do my best to provide more quality content.

As soon as they dropped out of hyperspace, Obi-Wan was making a comm call. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to connect. 

_ “Kenobi, my friend!” _ came Hondo Ohnaka’s cheerful voice.

Obi-Wan smiled fondly. “Hello, Hondo.” Quinlan would probably be calling him all kinds of rude names if he were here and knew what Obi-Wan was about to do, but he didn’t care. The pirate captain was something of a friend, enough of one that Obi-Wan felt he could trust him to keep his word. “I have a favor to ask of you. I seem to have gotten caught up in some trouble following my old master, and I had to leave my ship behind on Tatooine. If you could be a dear and look after it for me I would be most grateful.”

Hondo agreed without hesitation as Obi-Wan suspected he would. _ “But even if it’s for you I will expect compensation. That’s just good business, no?” _

“Of course. There are some crates in the hold that might interest you. I won them in a friendly game of sabacc, and if you happened to liberate them... well, it would save me the trouble of figuring out what to do with them.”

_ “Ohoho! I like the way you think! We’ll take good care of your ship for you.” _

“Thank you, Hondo. I’ll comm you again to set up a pick up once everything’s settled.”

_ “Pleasure doing business with you, Kenobi. Remember, if ever you get bored of being a Jedi, you come join Hondo Ohnaka’s crew. We’ll welcome you with open arms!” _

Obi-Wan shook his head in amusement at the predictable recruitment pitch. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said before ending the call. No doubt he would have to prepare himself to be temporarily absconded with once they met up. Hopefully the council wouldn’t have any urgent missions for him.

That task completed, he went to the cockpit just in time to hit atmo. The ship passed through the sparse cloud cover and the vast cityscape of Coruscant bloomed into view. Faintly he registered Olié pointing out different buildings to the fascinated Anakin, even as his eyes sought out the stately ziggurat of the Jedi Temple. And what a sight for sore eyes it was. It had been too long since he had last been home, and he welcomed the chance for even a brief respite within the comfort of its walls.

The ship slowed its approach to the landing pad, Olié bringing her down smoothly in a peaceful landing that had Obi-Wan praising the Force that it had not been Qui-Gon at the helm. He’d been positively traumatized by his master’s piloting skills over the years, and had no desire to endure another incident in this lifetime.

He joined Master Qui-Gon at the front of the entourage, leading them onto the landing platform where two figures were waiting along with an honor guard. One was Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum, the other presumably Naboo’s senator, Sheev Palpatine. The two Jedi bowed, then stepped aside to allow the politicians to exchange niceties.

The senator stepped forward to greet the Queen. “It is a great gift to see you alive, your Majesty. With the communications breakdown we’ve been very concerned. I’m anxious—”

Tuning out the conversation, Obi-Wan maintained a polite mask while holding back his distaste. Naboo’s senator was the very epitome of what it meant to be a politician, what with his carefully crafted image that screamed wealth and power, especially evident when standing next to the much more modest Chancellor Valorum. There was also the way he all but oozed concern, all the while something in his eyes just didn’t quite sit right. There was nothing overtly insincere about Senator Palpatine. Nothing more than Obi-Wan’s gut feeling and his extensive experience dealing with politicians.

It could be a simple matter of the Senator wanting to be seen in a good light, although whether for the Queen’s sake or the Chancellor’s was anybody’s guess. Regardless, his personal distrust of politicians had little bearing on the situation.

The Naboo proceeded toward an air taxi that would take them to 500 Republica so the Queen could prepare for her address to the Senate. Anakin trailed after them alongside the Gungan, Jar Jar Binks. The boy turned back questioningly when the Jedi did not follow. His master indicated to Anakin that he was to stick with the Naboo. Eventually, the child would have to be brought to the Temple, Obi-Wan knew, but in the meantime both he and his master had reports to make.

Grim faced, Qui-Gon approached the Chancellor, who had stayed behind. “I must speak with the Jedi Council immediately. The situation has become much more complicated.”

* * *

Standing in front of the full High Council beside his master brought forth such a feeling of nostalgia. They had spent much time here in this exact spot. It had seemed then that every other mission they went on was destined to go awry, necessitating a report in person as opposed to a simple written one. Privately, he was convinced that had Master Windu not been bald already, his and Master Qui-Gon’s stress-inducing reports would have been the reason for him tearing it all out.

Speaking of the Master of the Order, he looked to be nursing the beginnings of a migraine in anticipation of the trouble they were about to dump in his lap. He had taken one look at the two of them and immediately adopted the tell-tale pinched look of someone fighting not to scream or simply walk away and never turn back.

Obi-Wan felt bad for probably contributing to the Master’s stress ulcer, but the mostly buried prankster side of him was enjoying every second of Master Windu’s pain.

Master Qui-Gon began his report, glossing through the details of the failed negotiation and the subsequent flight from Naboo with Queen Amidala and her entourage. Obi-Wan barely refrained from sighing at him. Too bad for the disgruntled council that he couldn’t fill in the gaps for them this time.

Showing that he had some sense despite plenty of evidence to the contrary, he tackled the main issue first without even mentioning the strong Force-sensitive boy that had come to be in his care. “He was trained in the Jedi arts. My only conclusion can be that it was a Sith Lord.”

“Impossible,” Master Mundi refuted. “The Sith have been extinct for a millennium.”

Master Windu frowned skeptically. “I do not believe the Sith could have returned without us knowing.”

“Ah, hard to see, the dark side is,” Master Yoda mused. The aged Grandmaster’s eyes were closed, likely immersing himself in the Force in an effort to divine the truth. “What say you, young Obi-Wan?”

“I believe him to be the same darksider I encountered a year ago,” he stated simply.

“Your mission to locate a group of missing Jedi where you returned with the rescued Padawan Eldra Kaitis, yes?” Master Windu clarified.

Obi-Wan nodded. “He and a couple of bounty hunters set an ambush that I presume was meant for capturing Padawan Kaitis, and yet I could not detect his presence until just before the trap was sprung. And now that I’ve faced him head on I know that he is as strong as any Jedi Knight. The Force was insistent on drawing me to Tatooine, so clearly this encounter was important.” He took a breath before continuing. “I believe Master Qui-Gon’s suggestion is not unfounded.”

It was one thing to have a maverick Jedi such as his master propose a return of their fated enemies; it was another thing entirely for someone like Obi-Wan to make that same declaration. Unlike his master, he had found a delicate balance between following the will of the council and doing what he believed to be right, rather than stubbornly following his own will to the exclusion of all else unless severely pressured. All, of course, under the guise of it being the will of the Force.

The councilors’ agitation was palpable, even if he was not privy to the silent communications going on in the Force.

“Sure of this, you are?” asked a grave Master Yoda.

Obi-Wan had a ready answer to that. “I’ve gone against my fair share of darksiders, and none of them compare.” Sadly, his tendency for getting into and back out of trouble had the drawback of putting him in the path of those with a less than savory nature. By no means would he consider himself an expert in handling darksiders, but he did have something of a history.

“We’ll need hard proof before we come to any conclusions. Be prepared to go after this mystery attacker the next time he appears. May the Force be with you,” said Master Windu. The implied dismissal was clear in his voice.

Bowing in acknowledgment, Obi-Wan stepped back. He distinctly did not turn to leave just yet, a sense of expectation keeping him in place. As he suspected, Master Qui-Gon had not moved an inch, intent to bring up his next point of discussion now that the other matter had been tabled. Most of the other masters traded resigned looks.

“Master Qui-Gon,” huffed Master Yoda, “more to say have you?”

The man in question tucked his hands into his voluminous sleeves and squared his shoulders. “With your permission, my Master… I have encountered a vergence in the Force.”

“A vergence you say?”

Master Windu exchanged a glance with Master Yoda. “Located around a person?”

“A boy. He has the strongest Force presence I have felt in a life form, and his mother claimed to have born him alone, that there was no father. It is possible that he is the child of prophecy.”

On the heels of that declaration was a surge of surprised disbelief. Everyone knew immediately which prophecy he was hinting at. Obi-Wan was also startled and a bit confused. His master had never been a big proponent of foresight, so why in Malachor was he bringing up a prophecy? Particularly  _ that _ prophecy, and with such flimsy evidence to back his suppositions?

“You refer to the prophecy of the one who will bring balance to the Force,” said Master Windu flatly. “You believe it is this boy?”

“I don’t presume to—”

“But you do,” Master Yoda cut in. “Revealed your opinion is.”

“I request the boy be tested, Master.”

“Oh? Trained as a Jedi you request for him, hmm.”

Predictably, Qui-Gon insisted, “Finding him was the will of the Force. I have no doubt of that.”

Another round of nonverbal discussion enveloped the council for a long minute.

Finally, looking reluctant and utterly done with this whole conversation, Master Windu sighed, “Bring him before us then.”

They were quickly dismissed once again, and this time both departed without further delay. Qui-Gon veered off to fetch a speeder to the senate district in order to pick up Anakin while Obi-Wan opted to go to his quarters. He could do with a nice hot shower and then a cup of tea. Really, he should take the opportunity to get some sleep, but he doubted that would happen just yet. Another round of meditation would have to do.

A pleasant shower later and Obi-Wan was in his kitchenette brewing a lovely blend of Yunnan tea. He breathed in the sweet and slightly earthy aroma with relish. Sitting down on the old, worn sofa in his living room, he let himself unwind. It felt good to be in familiar robes again and back in the comfort of home after so long on the move. He brushed his fingers through his hair, swiping his damp fringe off to the side as he sipped his tea. His hair was getting to be a bit long. Sooner or later he would have to remember to get it trimmed. Right after his knighting he had grown it out, ecstatic at the chance to get rid of the awful padawan cut, only to quickly become annoyed by the constant tangles and the amount of styling it involved to keep it out of his face. He’d kept it short ever since.

His thoughts strayed to the Queen, and he wondered if the special senate session had begun yet. He hoped for her sake, and for the people of Naboo, that the senate would get their act together and do something to help, rather than squabble over petty differences of opinion. Sadly, the odds were not in her favor, given the Trade Federation’s influence greatly eclipsed that of a single Mid Rim planet known only for its peaceful ways, beautiful scenery, and the youth of many of its political leaders.

But one could hope. For without hope, half the battle was already lost.

* * *

Coruscant’s skyline was dyed red with the evening sun, a richly hued backdrop to the city view from the temple. It was beautiful in its own way, although personally Obi-Wan preferred the vast expanse of stars seen from a ship viewport, floating out in the black. The reminder of just how small one was in the greater tapestry of the universe. A portrait, too, of cosmic forces at work.

Currently, Anakin was being submitted to the High Council’s testing. Obi-Wan was holding out hope that the council didn’t intimidate him overly much. It was bad enough being tested by people you knew; he could only imagine how Anakin felt standing in front of all these strange Jedi Masters he had suddenly been thrust before.

While this was taking place, he found himself waiting with his master on one of the balconies of the southwest tower. They were discussing Anakin’s chances, and as usual Qui-Gon refused to consider any other outcome than the one he claimed was willed by the Force, thinking he knew best.

Since he liked to examine a situation from multiple angles, Obi-Wan ended up playing devil's advocate against his master, arguing on principle. He had nothing against the boy being trained, and in fact thought it was a good idea for someone so strong in the force.

“Whether or not the boy passes the council’s test, they are not likely to accept him. He’s too old,” he finally pointed out. The age limits were silly in his opinion, but they had been in place for a long time, and change was slow to come in the Jedi Order in the absence of major conflicts.

“Anakin will become a Jedi, I promise you,” Qui-Gon insisted. Unvoiced, but obvious all the same, was the additional ‘with or without the council’s permission.’

Obi-Wan gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. “One of these days, Master, your defiance of the council is going to get you into real trouble.”

“I only do what I must.”

That remark only served to irritate Obi-Wan. Clearly, they had very different ideas as to what must be done. Almost the entirety of his apprenticeship was proof enough of that.

“Do you truly believe in this prophecy?” he asked instead. “You have never held much belief in foresight.”

Like a true diplomat, Qui-Gon turned it back on him rather than answer the question. “If memory serves me right, you have always held a little too much belief in foresight.” Obi-Wan thought it might have been meant as a tease. The subject was a little too touchy for it to truly come across as such.

“That is because I am rooted in the Unifying Force, which, might I remind you, is the source of both prophecy and foresight,” he returned a touch cross. “I had many visions of myself as a knight when I was a child. It’s why I was so distraught at the thought of aging out, because I knew I wasn’t meant to be a farmer.”

“Are you certain they weren’t simply manifestations of your hopes and dreams?”

“I can tell the difference between dreams and Force-given visions,” he said drily. “But that is entirely besides the point. Whenever I came to you with visions, you liked to quote Master Yoda at me, saying ‘the future is always in motion’, and yet you wholeheartedly believe in this prophecy of unknown origins and dubious validity?”

“It's undeniable that the boy is special. Surely you can sense it just as I have.”

“I never said he wasn’t. I merely think that linking him to the prophecy without proof is foolish. Not to mention the fact that the prophecy itself is in question.”

“And the boy just happened to become known at the same time as the Sith have made a reappearance? There are no coincidences, Obi-Wan.”

Pursing his lips in agitation at his master’s bullheadedness, Obi-Wan chose a different angle. “Suppose it is true. We don’t know what sort of balance it’s promising—”

He was interrupted by a padawan summoning them for the council. Anakin’s testing had finished.

Night had fully fallen as they reconvened in the High Council chamber, the city below turned to a sea of twinkling lights. Obi-Wan was not even sure why he was present for the decision as it didn’t concern him. Anakin was a sweet boy, and he was invested in his well being despite them having just met, but all the same, Master Qui-Gon was the one who brought him and insisted he be tested. Maybe he wasn’t the only one falling back into old habits. He made the effort to push aside his discomfort for Anakin’s sake. As strong as he was in the Force, even untrained, he would no doubt pick up on it, and Obi-Wan didn’t want him to misconstrue the reason for it and take it the wrong way.

“He is to be trained then?” Qui-Gon asked, full of quiet confidence.

Master Windu shook his head. “No, he will not be trained.”

“No?” his master parroted, voicing his disbelief. So strong was his reaction that some slipped past his shielding to leak into the Force. He placed his hands on his hips and frowned disapprovingly at all the council members.

More concerning were the swirling emotions projecting from Anakin, his disappointment, his fear for the future, his despair in the face of the council’s harsh rejection. Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one to wince at the outpouring crashing against their shields. This, Obi-Wan thought, was part of the problem. The boy  _ felt _ so strongly, which was almost anathema to the staunch traditionalists that comprised most of the Order, but Obi-Wan felt it showcased  _ why _ it was necessary that he receive at least rudimentary lessons in how to control his power. Force knows, Obi-Wan understood what it was like to be in Anakin’s position.

“He is too old,” said Master Windu, as though that were the most pressing concern in the matter.

“He  _ is _ the chosen one. You must see it,” Master Qui-Gon implored.

Ears quivering slightly, Master Yoda hummed in thought. “Mmm. Clouded this boy’s future is.”

Master Qui-Gon got that stubborn jut to his jaw that precipitated a remark or an action that would likely cause an uproar. He stepped forward to place both hands atop the boy’s shoulders, as much a declaration as his next words. “I will train him. I take Anakin as my padawan learner.”

Delight radiated from Anakin and washed away any traces of fear and anxiety, even as undercurrents of incredulity from the council members rang through the Force.

Restraining from hunching into himself, Obi-Wan tried not to feel resentment over how quickly Qui-Gon had latched onto the boy. He had expected this outcome, but some small part of him still ached from his former master’s numerous rejections. For so long he’d been the unwanted initiate ( _ too much anger _ ), the padawan reject ( _ destined for a fall _ ); add to that Melida/Daan and everything that followed it, it was a wonder he ever made it to knighthood at all. Much of that was not through any fault of his own, or so his friends claimed. In his low moments he couldn’t help but doubt the veracity of their assertions. Only in those moments, though, as those same friends also liked to remind him that he has always been too harsh on himself and that he burdened himself with guilt for situations out of his control.

But looking at the boy, it was obvious why Qui-Gon was so enamored. Obi-Wan was a bit charmed himself, and he’d be a liar to claim otherwise.

Master Windu was visibly biting back a scathing comment. “It is your right to choose an apprentice,” he said instead, sporting a thunderous scowl. Of all the High Council members, it was Master Windu with whom Qui-Gon tended to butt heads the most. There were many things they could never see eye to eye on, and clearly this was one of them. That said, it was hard to believe they were actually friends. “The council recognizes Anakin Skywalker as padawan to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

After a terse update on the situation with the Senate voting for a new Chancellor, and Queen Amidala’s decision to return home, they were given instructions for both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to accompany her Highness’ retinue back to Naboo. Qui-Gon was to continue his previous objective of guarding the Queen and aiding her in her efforts to resolve the conflict. On the other hand, Obi-Wan was to be on the lookout for the supposed Sith assassin, with the explicit directive to capture him for questioning.

They were shuffled out of the council chambers and on their way to rejoin the Naboo. Preparations were already under way when the Jedi arrived, a bustle of activity to get the ship refueled and restock the provisions. It would be a lengthier trip traveling out of the Core than it had been coming in, and time was of the essence. The people of Naboo couldn’t afford for them to take their time.

Scanning the solemn faces of the Naboo as they boarded the royal cruiser, something churned in Obi-Wan’s stomach. He had a bad feeling about this venture.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get back to this much sooner, but I got distracted with roadtripping with my sister, catching up on some reading, baking, etc. Whoops?

Obi-Wan sat up abruptly, gasping for breath that had fled his lungs and drenched in sweat. Blood rushed in his ears over the lingering sounds of clashing ‘sabers and an echoing scream of denial and heartrending pain. Images continued to flicker through his vision as the dream had yet to relinquish its hold.

_ A searing red blade dancing across metal catwalks; a feral snarl wrapped in black _ —

_ The floor slipping away and falling down, down, down into the void _ —

_ Again a searing red blade dancing across metal catwalks; a feral snarl wrapped in black _ —

_ Green trapped between two barriers of red; a sense of urgency, too slow, have to hurry _ —

_ Red piercing flesh; an echo of second-hand pain _ —

_ Again a searing red blade dancing across metal catwalks; a feral snarl wrapped in black _ —

_ Barriers of red ahead, not this time, have to make it _ —

_ Red piercing flesh; burning, agonizing pain _ —

He broke out of looping vision feeling like he’d gone a round of fisticuffs with a nexu. His body ached and his head pounded under the effects of a fierce headache.

“Fuck.” Obi-Wan swung his feet over the edge of his bunk and hung his head between his knees, taking a second to just  _ breathe. _

It seemed the visions which had plagued him as a youngling had returned with frightening new intensity. He had finally succumbed to sleep, and like the breaking of a dam his dreaming mind had been flooded with a barrage of looping sequences. Possibilities. Potential futures cycling one after the next. All focused on that Zabrak from Tatooine. Was it their encounter there that brought this on?

His visions had petered off as he grew older, fading away until all that remained of his prescience was a very accurate intuition. Perhaps after having them pushed to the side time and again by Qui-Gon he had begun to subconsciously suppress them. Qui-Gon had always insisted that he take no heed of them because there was little consistency on whether or not they came true. What he never seemed to understand was that there were multiple types of visions, so the inconsistency was to be expected.

It’s true that most visions were only  _ possibilities _ , but oftentimes those visions were meant as warnings, so that the receiver of the vision would take action. This rendered many visions false because they were subverted; the others came true if no action was taken or the effected change was insufficient to prevent the events of the vision.

However, there was another type of vision. They  _ always _ came true because they were irrefutable.

Many Jedi subscribed to the same school of thought as Master Yoda, claiming that since ‘the future is always in motion’ true precognition was completely impossible. But there were some that believed in a theory counter to that, one that stated that there were fixed points in time that could never, ever be changed. This was also where certain prophecies came into play, as many were written, promptly forgotten, then the prophesied events took place only to be found out to have been prophesied long after the fact.

This particular vision fell into the former category, although it was a bit odd considering Obi-Wan was not used to seeing multiple possibilities at once. He had known that it was possible for visions to take such a form, but he had only read about them in accounts of great seers of the distant past. In recent history, the Order’s only true seer had been Master Sifo-Dyas, who had died only a few months ago, and he had never had visions of that sort. (And how he wished he could speak to the man again as he had when he was a youngling, frightened by the awful dreams he had every night. Obi-Wan could use his insight now.)

In any case, it was evident that he would be facing the Zabrak again soon.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Tired though he still was, sleep was the last thing on his mind now. They were several days out from Naboo with bare scraps of a plan that relied on the goodwill of a people that historically did not ally themselves with the Naboo. In order to drive out the Trade Federation’s droids, the Queen needed an army. Jedi were akin to a one man army, but they could not go to war for the Queen. The Gungans, however, might be convinced to. They simply had to find them first.

Obi-Wan tugged his boots on and hauled himself to his feet. No point sitting here stewing in thought when he could do something more productive. He made his way to the open space of the cargo hold. The Queen's astromech blinked to life as he passed by, chirping something in binary at him. He patted the droid on the dome. "Sorry, my binary is a little rusty. There’s no need concerned on my account. I'm just going to the cargo hold to do some drills."

And he did just that. He went through some warm ups and stretches first, incrementally losing the tension in his muscles from the abrupt awakening. From there Obi-Wan went straight into Soresu katas. The motions flowed like ocean waves, precise movements with a steady rhythm. It was soothing in a way, and did much to ease any lingering unrest. Next were the much more high energy Ataru katas. The acrobatics had him flipping and spinning across the cargo hold, lightsaber humming as it cut through the air.

Once he had completed the katas, he took a momentary breather before deciding to try something different.

His eyes closed as he visualized the clash against a physically insubstantial opponent wielding a red saberstaff. He started twirling his own ‘saber, blocking an overhead strike, and then dancing out of the way of the second strike aimed at his right leg. He blocked a slash from the left, then from the right. Using that imaginary point of contact, he spun into a retaliating attack of his own. It was blocked. Ducking low, he spun back the other direction, and the ghostly figure leapt over his sweeping lightsaber.

They circled a bit, testing each other’s defenses. The phantom opponent leaned into a feint that Obi-Wan didn’t fall for. They traded a few more blows, neither gaining the upper hand. Obi-Wan’s blade swirled and spun through the air, seeking an opening that did not come. They fell into half a second of pretend blade lock. His opponent swiveled under their crossed sabers and had it been a real fight would have driven a shoulder under his arm and turned it into a throw.

Obi-Wan reopened his eyes with a sigh. There was only so much he could do to prepare with just his imagination to work with. The visions had given him a good grasp of the Zabrak’s fighting style, but that hardly mattered when he was practice fighting against thin air. He’d have to wrangle Qui-Gon into helping him at a more appropriate hour.

In the meantime, there was little else he could do aside from cool down and, as always, meditate. He huffed a quiet laugh. If only his younger self could see him now; he’d be floored by the amount of time he now spent in quiet contemplation. Once upon a time it had been difficult for him to still himself for such long periods of time. Barely five or ten minutes in and he’d be all but vibrating in place, itching to do something more active. Such simple times those were, in retrospect.

Now was not the time to daydream about the past.

Throughout the next several days of travel, Obi-Wan had a few more scattered visions, some new, some rehashing scenes from the first one.  _ Maul _ , the Force whispered to him. He supposed that was the name of their maybe Sith darksider. In the short term it didn’t so much matter what he was called. What mattered was figuring out how to deal with him. To that end, Obi-Wan did indeed coax Qui-Gon into sparring with him. The cargo hold that had served well enough for solo training was only just enough space to accommodate two combatants, and even then they had to be wary of straying too close to the walls. He debated with himself over how much to tell Qui-Gon before ultimately deciding not to say much of anything, instead giving vague directions about emulating Maul’s fighting style without outright mentioning the return of his foretelling visions.

Not all of their training sessions were solely focused on that, however. There was no time like the present to work on developing his Soresu, particularly incorporating offensive Soresu into his repertoire. One of the greatest misconceptions about Soresu, he had found, was that most average Jedi would claim it to be a purely defensive form. It had been developed to combat the increasingly popular blasters, so that was a fair assumption. And it was true enough on the surface. True mastery of Soresu came down to mindset. When used offensively, it was a precision form, dealing with seeking out weak points and striking down an opponent in as few moves as possible. Where other forms could be drilled to the point of muscle memory and instinct, Soresu required discerning eyes and an analytical mind. Taking that into consideration along with the stigma surrounding it, it was no wonder why so few sought mastery in Form III.

All the training was certainly well worth it, but all the same Obi-Wan was still a ball of jittery anticipation by the time they reached Naboo. Getting past the blockade this time was a breeze. It seemed the Trade Federation didn't care as much about people landing on the planet as they did people trying to leave it. Or rather, they were allowing the Queen to return without harassment in the hopes for a second chance to force her compliance. They caught a fleeting glimpse of the droid control ship as they passed by; Captain Panaka, from the look of intense thought, immediately got to planning how to tackle that issue.

They ran into no trouble on the way to the surface and landed among the lush green forests, far enough out from Theed to avoid notice from any droid patrols. Once they had all disembarked, Binks set off into the swamps to contact his people on behalf of the Queen. He returned shortly, alone. The Gungan city was abandoned, according to Binks, and not willingly by the evidence of blaster fights. Yet he was sure of his people’s survival, saying that there was a secondary place, a sacred place, deeper in the swamp, and so they all began trooping through the muck.

The two Jedi trailed behind at the back of the group. Obi-Wan felt bad for the decoy queen in her long skirts and heavy headdress. Her outfit today was far less elaborate than the usual ceremonial garb, but still nowhere near as practical as the simple dress donned by the other handmaidens and the true Queen. Even when gearing up for war they had an image to maintain.

He considered their little ragtag group thoughtfully. “Do you think the Gungans will agree to the Queen’s plan?” he asked Qui-Gon.

“They will not be easily swayed,” the other Jedi asserted, gaze distant, “and we cannot use our power to help her.”

Obi-Wan nodded in reluctant agreement. It was frustrating how limited the Jedi were in their ability to help. The matter of the darksider assassin was without a doubt within their purview, but without Senate approval all other matters on Naboo were to be dealt with internally. “And Anakin?” He glanced at the boy in question. “What shall you have him do when the fighting starts? In the midst of hostilities is no place for a child, especially untrained.”

“He will be placed somewhere safe,” the man replied in an equally frustrating ambiguous answer. Obi-Wan barely refrained from glaring at him in return.

Up ahead, their Gungan guide stopped to let out a strange chattering noise. Mere moments later, a patrol group of seven Gungans materialized out of the foliage riding kaadus. Long spears were clenched tightly in their fists and pointed at their group threateningly .

“Heyo-dalee, Captain Tarpals,” Binks called out.

There was a brief exchange between the two Gungans before the whole company, seeming rather reluctant, began to escort their party deeper into the swamps. The further they went, the more Gungan refugees they came across, all tense and watching them warily. At last they were led to the overgrown ruins of a crumbling temple. Massive stone heads peered out from the twisting tree roots, some partially submerged in the swamp. Waiting for them atop one of the heads was a large Gungan in embroidered robes with a crowd of other important looking Gungans at his back.

“Your Honor,” called Captain Tarpals, “Queen Amidala of the Naboo.”

Binks offered his own nervous greeting. “Heyo dadee Big Boss Nass Your Honor.”

“Jar Jar Binks,” the Gungan leader returned, voice echoing ominously. “Yousa payen dis time. Who's da uss-en others?”

The decoy queen stepped forward. Even in these circumstances she retained a regal air. “I am Queen Amidala. I come to you in peace.”

“Naboo biggen. Yousa bringen da Mackineeks... Dya busten uss-en omm. Yousa all bombad. Yousa all die'n, mesa tink.”

The already tense atmosphere gained a nervous edge. The Queen’s guards and the handful of pilots that had come with them shifted anxiously, all while the Gungan troops hefted their spears in obvious threat. By contrast, both Jedi were pillars of serenity.

“We wish to form an alliance—”

“Your Honor,” Padme interrupted.

Boss Nass clicked his tongue in reproach. “Whosa dis?”

“I am Queen Amidala.” Gesturing to the other “queen” she said, “This is my decoy, my protection, my loyal bodyguard.

“I am sorry for my deception, but under the circumstances it has become necessary to protect myself. Although we do not always agree, Your Honor, our two great societies have always lived in peace...until now. The Trade Federation has destroyed all that we have worked so hard to build. You are in hiding, my people are in camps. If we do not act quickly, all will be lost forever. I ask you to help us—no, I beg you to help us.”

Without ceremony, Padme dropped to her knees and prostrated herself. The others were quick to follow. As he joined them, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but admire the young Queen’s willingness to display vulnerability, her lack of hesitation in the face of her people’s need. “We are your humble servants,” Padme continued. “Our fate is in your hands.”

Boss Nass stared at them in silent deliberation. Suddenly, he broke out into delighted laughter. “Yousa no tinken yousa greater den da Gungans.. Mesa like dis. Maybe wesa bein friends.”

Relief was thick in the air as the Gungans began cheering. It seemed the Queen’s gambit paid off. There are times when a leader needs to be resolute, stronger than durasteel. To show an unbending will and a firm refusal to be cowed into submission. There are other times, however, when one must show weakness and use that weakness to their benefit. The Queen took a calculated risk in discarding all the pomp of her station and putting herself and her people at the mercy of the Gungans, and in the end it worked in her favor.

Preparations moved quickly after that. It was decided that the Gungan army would provide a distraction and draw the droid army away from the cities. The Naboo in turn would concentrate their efforts on infiltrating Theed and capturing the Viceroy in order to force a surrender. Captain Panaka took off to gather reinforcements for this endeavor, contacting resistance groups that had evaded capture in the initial invasion. Throughout it all, Obi-Wan lended his insight and expertise with battle tactics to the Gungan generals. For all their warrior ways, Naboo was still a peaceful planet, and it was a long time since the Gungans had seen true battle. Together, they tried to iron out a plan that would lead to the least number of casualties.

They worked through the night gathering troops and equipment for the battle ahead. There was no time to dally with the Trade Federation no doubt already aware of the Queen’s return.

Obi-Wan rose from a light meditation before the dawn and set about preparing for the inevitable confrontation with Maul. It was with a faint grimace that he buckled his blaster to his hip once more. He detested the things, even if he had practiced with them enough to be an excellent marksman. Most of the time he carried a blaster it was more for show. Whenever he touched one all he could see were the faces of too young children dying in the filth and ruins of once great cities. Melida/Daan was a scar on his soul that he would carry with him always.

Alas, practicality won out over comfort this time.

With the morning sunrise came a thick mist rising over the swamps, diluting the sun’s rays in a haze of gray. Everyone was breaking off into their designated groups for a final rundown when Anakin came over to him and thrust a piece of carved japor into Obi-Wan’s hand, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to keep it on him at all times. Obi-Wan smiled at the thoughtfulness—also somewhat baffled as to why  _ he _ of all people was receiving one—and tucked it away safely in one of his belt pouches.

The Gungans were the first to head out, marching out into the open fields to the sound of war horns. As soon as there was confirmation of droid movement, the infiltration party, the Jedi, and an assortment of pilots left for Theed. The primary objective was to get the pilots in the air and set them loose on the droid control ship. While the Gungans could buy some time with their shields, they were still vastly outnumbered, and it was imperative that the controls were knocked out before too many lives were lost. The secondary objective was, of course, the capture of Viceroy Nute Gunray.

Most of Theed was cleared out with only skeleton patrols that were easy enough to sneak around. It was only once they came upon a tank filled plaza that they had to abandon the stealth approach. After a quick conference communicating via laser signals, Captain Panaka and his squad of guards drew their blasters. They began firing coordinated salvos at the droids from the far side of the plaza to shepherd them away from the main hangar entrance. The rest rushed into the palace hangar; the two Jedi led the charge, mowing down all droids in their path and deflecting incoming blaster bolts. The pilots scrambled for their ships and immediately took off. Meanwhile, the infiltration team continued laying down fire on the remaining droids.

Obi-Wan kept a portion of his attention dedicated to monitoring Anakin as he skirted around the edge of the hangar in search of a hiding spot. He made sure to keep himself between the boy and any blaster bolts aimed toward his section of the hangar.

In no time at all the droids were cleared out. Shortly thereafter, Captain Panaka and his team rejoined them. There was no time to stop and catch their breath, so they immediately regrouped and prepared for the next round.

"Red group, blue group," Panaka called out, "everybody this way." He waved them all over to the door that led further into the palace.

Qui-Gon sternly insisted to Anakin that he stay put in the ship he'd taken refuge in. While Obi-Wan had mixed feelings about leaving him on his own, it was not his place to contradict Qui-Gon considering Anakin was officially now his padawan. Still, it gave him a creeping sense of dread.

He and Qui-Gon hurried after the others when the doors opened of their own accord and brought the party up short. Standing there waiting was Maul. Obi-Wan sucked in a harsh breath. Bits and pieces of his visions flashed before his eyes. He determinedly shook them off. He had seen so many paths, and he knew what signs to look for. So long as he kept a cool head, he could get them through this without casualties. Or so he hoped.

Taking charge, Qui-Gon told the young Queen and her retinue to move on ahead. Their goal was still to detain Viceroy Nute Gunray. Padme agreed without complaint, and the Naboo split off, leaving the Force wielders to duke it out in the hangar bay. The whine of blasters rang out once more as more droids arrived. Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore it in favor of his own impending battle, trusting the Naboo to be able to handle themselves.

Maul threw back his hood. He stared fixedly at the two Jedi with a predatory gaze, unleashing the heavy shielding on his Force presence. A lust for battle and a strong desire to kill them pervaded the air.

Obi-Wan shed his cloak and flung it carelessly off to the side, aware of Qui-Gon doing the same in his peripheral. They would only get in the way of a battle he knew was going to be intense.

The Zabrak drew his lightsaber with a flourish, holding it out parallel to the ground. First one side, then the other ignited to form the saberstaff that had haunted his dreams of late. He was too on edge to appreciate the drama Maul was putting into his entrance.

But he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t manage a cheeky quip. “Let’s dance,” he said as he and Qui-Gon both ignited their own ‘sabers.

And the battle was on.

Obi-Wan took initiative, flipping over the darksider in order to keep him boxed in between himself and the other Jedi Master. At the peak of his jump he swung downward at Maul’s previously injured arm. Maul deflected it with an overhead guard, then deftly blocked Obi-Wan’s followup strike at his back without even turning.

Qui-Gon came in swinging, and Obi-Wan was forced to lean back in order to avoid the tip of Qui-Goni’s sweeping ‘saber that Maul ducked under. The darksider spun back and forth, fending both off as they tried to split his attention. Maul’s focus was fixed on the Jedi responsible for his previous injury, but that did not mean he left his back undefended against Obi-Wan, and his double bladed staff evened the odds. Thankfully, the nature of a saberstaff did not increase Maul’s range as much as a conventional staff would, nor did it give him the flexibility to adjust that range. Things would be much more difficult if that were the case.

The three Force users danced around the hangar, playing hopscotch with the broken down bits of battle droids as each sought the upper hand. At the same time Obi-Wan went low while Qui-Gon went high, hoping to catch the Zabrak between their 'sabers. Maul flipped his saberstaff near vertical to block, then jump kicked Qui-Gon in the chest when the arcing swing left him open. Qui-Gon fell back with a grunt. Maul then backed off before Obi-Wan could retaliate.

With an unnecessarily flashy aerial flip towards another set of doors, Maul Force grabbed a piece of a broken droid and flung it at the controls. The doors gave way to the Theed power generator, and once more flashes of Obi-Wan’s visions tried to press to the forefront. His heart quivered at the sight of the catwalks, the tension in his body ratcheted up a notch. He blinked away duplicates of the three fighters that momentarily overlaid reality.

Disregarding the brief lapse in concentration, he gave chase, quickly followed by Qui-Gon. They both went at Maul, finally getting into the rhythm of things after years of not fighting side by side. Their coordinated attacks had the darksider backtracking even as he tried to break them apart. Obi-Wan leaned out of the way of another kick, and Maul resorted to shoving with a Force assisted push. He flew back a couple meters and skidded to a halt as Maul jumped up to a higher level. The two Jedi rushed after him, not wanting to let up on their relentless assault.

Maul led them on a merry chase across the catwalks, leaping around, fruitlessly attempting to distance one of them. The air of confidence he had at the start was completely overtaken by savage anger and a deep, intense hatred that burned hotly in the Force.

Deciding to up the ante, Obi-Wan switched from the broad, circling sweeps of Ataru to the tighter Soresu. He managed to slip a few hits through Maul’s guard, but they barely grazed him before he was twisting away. Obi-Wan capitalized on that and kept forcing him into awkward positions to block. An opening presented itself and Qui-Gon back-handed Maul clear off the catwalk, sending him tumbling to the one below. They both jumped down a second later and squared off again with the already recovering darksider.

The Force was positively screaming at Obi-Wan the second the red barriers came into sight at the end of the catwalk. He knew that if he and Qui-Gon got separated by the barriers, it became infinitely harder to come out of this fight unscathed. Yet, they also couldn’t afford to draw this out much longer. Soon, someone would tire and make a mistake, and there was no guarantee that it would be in their favor.

With no time to lose, he sank fully into the Force and let it guide him. He leapt into a flash of Force enhanced speed to cut the Zabrak off. Purposefully reckless, he swung wide to stop Maul in his tracks, leaving his guard wide open. Maul took the bait and lunged. Obi-Wan pivoted at the last second, gritting his teeth against the bloom of agony as the red ‘saber seared across his ribs. Ignoring the pain, he drew his blaster and shot point blank.

Both fighters dropped.

* * *

Between the soft beeping of electronics and the sterile smell, Obi-Wan knew where he was before he opened his eyes. He squinted against the bright illumination of what he presumed was the med bay in Theed Palace. His attempt to sit up was halted prematurely by a dull twinge of pain in his ribs. Giving up on that course of action, he turned his attention to the familiar Force presence at his bedside, muffled but wavering in a way indicative of restless sleep.

Qui-Gon was still quite young by Jedi standards—Jedi lifespans being generally longer than the average for their species—but he appeared to have aged five or so years. His wild mane of hair was even more unkempt than usual, the bags under his eyes bruised a deep purple, worry lines creasing his forehead even in sleep.

Rather than leave him in such an unsettled state, Obi-Wan sent out a soft pulse in the Force to nudge him awake. It took only seconds for Qui-Gon to blink away the last dregs of sleep. “Obi-Wan, you’re awake.”

“Very astute of you,” Obi-Wan rasped through a throat drier than a desert at high noon.

At once, Qui-Gon assisted him in sitting up and handed him a cup of water. Only after that did he jump into the scolding. “That was incredibly reckless of you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get yourself killed, and even then I had quite the time of it trying to keep you stable until the healers could see to you.”

“I assure you it was a perfectly calculated risk,” Obi-Wan replied mulishly.

“So you were willing to take down that Zabrak even at the cost of your own life?” Qui-Gon’s voice turned gentle. “Do you have any idea what that would have done to me if I had been forced to watch you die right before my eyes?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at the confusing cocktail of emotions he could feel from Qui-Gon. He was typically not very free with expressing himself beyond his ire at the Council for their latest disagreement, so the fact that he was projecting so much itself was astonishing. Obi-Wan couldn’t formulate any words to say before Qui-Gon continued.

“I admit to leaving too much unsaid during your apprenticeship. Because of--” he paused for a breath. “Because of Xanatos I was afraid to let another close. I pushed you hard because you seemed to thrive on challenge, but I was too sparing with praise. I did not want to lead you down the same dark path.

“But despite all that you became so very precious to me. And I realize now that I’ve never told you just how proud of you I am.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes burned with tears at the outpouring of emotions following those words. He could sense the truth in them, proof of Qui-Gon’s affection, his pride. It was everything he had ever wanted from his master, everything that he had told himself time and again that he could do without. Not only that, but he could recognize the words as the apology that they were.

So with a watery but beaming smile, he said simply, “I forgive you, Master.”

“Obi, you're awake!” Like a juggernaut, Anakin came barreling into the room and broke the emotionally charged moment. The boy crashed into Obi-Wan, careful, however, to avoid his injured side.

Obi-Wan smiled helplessly at the boy and began carding his free hand through Anakin’s hair soothingly. “Yes, I’m alright. It was nothing serious.” He blatantly ignored his master’s stern frown at that remark. Directing the topic away from his injuries, he asked if Anakin stayed safe and avoided running into trouble. Nothing could have prepared him for Anakin’s response.

“I blew up the droid ship!”

Obi-Wan nearly spat out a mouthful of water. “You did what?!”

* * *

Flower petals showered down over the crowds from open windows above. The main street of Theed was packed to the brim, the atmosphere alive with joy and relief and a wonderful sense of harmony. Rhythmic drum beats announced the arrival of the Gungan parade, and the crowds erupted into cheers. Horns quickly joined the drums with an upbeat melody. Naboo fighter ships zoomed overhead in a celebratory flyby. Obi-Wan, recovered enough for light activity, watched it all from his position next to Master Qui-Gon and Anakin and just behind the Queen. Thanks to the formidable skills of Master Healer Volare Che, who had come to Naboo with the Jedi delegation, he was healing well and looked to have minimal lasting effects.

Boss Nass mounted the stairs and approached Queen Amidala and Governor Bibble, a delicate crystal orb filled with dancing light held in his hands. This orb, the Globe of Peace, was passed over to the Queen, who then offered it to Boss Nass. He took it gently before lifting it high in the air. “Peace!” he cried triumphantly, and the cheers multiplied tenfold.

Throughout the rest of the day there was dancing and laughter, spirits high after the decisive victory over the Trade Federation. The Jedi, however, did not linger long. They had other matters to see to. Such as the transfer of one suspected Sith to a secure cell in the temple. Since being stunned by Obi-Wan’s blaster, Maul had been kept in a Force induced slumber until such a time as the High Council could interrogate him. If he truly was a Sith, then the Rule of Two dictated that there must be one other. It was likely that Master Tholme would be given the task of locating this other potential Sith along with any of Maul’s other compatriots.

On the other hand, after leaving Naboo Obi-Wan was temple bound for some time while he finished healing. He was kept to a strict diet and sleep schedule Master Che had bullied him into following. He spent that time helping Qui-Gon with Anakin. His poor master wasn't as spry as he once was and keeping up with Ani's energy would otherwise require copious amounts of stims and caf. As soon as he was able, Obi-Wan slowly got back into training, beginning with taking over a rotation teaching an initiate ‘saber class. All the while, the plan he had postponed continued circulating in the back of his thoughts.

Some time later he was on his way to an appointment with the Council he had requested. An endlessly rehearsed speech spun out in his mind. He had no idea if this would work, but he had to try. Master Koon was known to have a soft spot for children; if nothing else getting him on board would be a boon. He stepped off the turbolift and the padawan on duty outside the council chambers waved him inside as soon as he arrived.

“Knight Kenobi, bring before us, what do you? Called for this meeting, you did, hmm?”

“Yes, I have a request regarding Padawan Skywalker’s mother…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that wraps up The Phantom Menace. I've got all kinds of plans for the next couple arcs, but no guarantees on when I'll get those posted. I have some original stories in the works that I've been trying to focus on, so we'll see when I get back to this series. But until then, I hope you enjoyed this story and thank you for all the support!


	4. Lightsaber Forms

For those interested in my take on lightsaber forms, here it is:

Shii-Cho- bare bones basics of swordplay; didn't think it need much explanation, but if you want a visual I usually think of Obi-Wan and Vader's duel in A New Hope

Makashi- based on the Italian school of fencing; developed for lightsaber vs lightsaber combat; usually one-handed; utilizes piercing attacks, thrusts, lunges; rather than outright blocking leans more towards deflections and repostes; quick darting footwork to close in on an opponent and quickly retreat; a good visual would be any classic film with fencing, but my favorite would be [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDlZ_SXx5gA) from Princess Bride (skip to 3:42 for the actual fight) or alternatively [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5TiaQeuNO0)

Soresu- most like true Japanese sword fighting, at least in philosophy; initially developed to combat blasters, so emphasis on defense and deflecting blaster bolts; focus on speed and efficiency of movement as well as hitting weak points and taking an opponent down in very few moves; mix of one-handed and two-handed strikes; the closest visual I could think of would be the water stance from Ghost of Tsushima (also, the stand offs and heavenly strike stuff fit in well enough); for reference here's [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJYORO3kYeU) video (2:20 for stand off/heavenly strike and 5:25 for general strikes)

Ataru- based mostly on Chinese straight sword forms with a mix of Ghost of Tsushima moon stance and wind stance spinning attacks; very showy and high energy form with lots of spins, sweeping, circular strikes, and acrobatics; primarily an offensive form; mix of one-handed and two-handed; for a visual, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mClOxgyWLs8) is a good video; also includes a good example of how I imagine Jar'kai Ataru; for moon and wind stance reference here's [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iShuLfq21Mo) video

Shien/Djem So- most like what's shown in the films, but with less useless flourishes; mashup of all of the previous forms; good for both offense and defense with Shien having more emphasis on blaster redirection and Djem So on lightsaber vs lightsaber duels; for an even better visual check out Obi-Wan's form in SC 38 reimagined [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=to2SMng4u1k)

Niman- skipped this for now because it hardly ever comes up

Juyo- based on the Germanic school of fencing; very aggressive offense; almost entirely two-handed; incorporates kicks and grapples; it is also a style of misdirection so involves a lot of feints; for a good example of longsword fighting here's [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cn36Pb8z3yI) video

Vapaad- visually, I imagine this to be very similar to Juyo; differs mainly in the nuances (philosophy, Force usage, that sort of thing)

**Author's Note:**

> Random sidenote on lightsaber combat: I'm very particular when it comes to writing fight scenes and I have to be able to visualize it, even if I don't write it blow by blow. In most portrayals of lightsaber combat, the different forms look pretty much identical (except Yoda really), so I spent some time coming up with my own ideas about what each form looks like. If people are actually interested, I can provide more details.
> 
> Also: Hyperspace travel time is annoying to account for and I mostly gloss over it because I didn't feel like doing the actual calculations.


End file.
